Stitches
by DamagedGlasses
Summary: Fem Harry. After an encounter at a hospital, Starla Rose Potter finds herself in the midst of learning the magic art of Voodoo. With these skills and questionable sanity, Starla goes through her life, making waves. I do not own Harry Potter.
1. Sew Much Potential

**Stitches**

* * *

Lying in a hospital bed on a cold Saturday morning, a five-year-old Starla Rose Potter started musing to herself different things that she wondered about. One of the those things was if there was anyone who didn't believe stupid lies and stories.

Since she learned to speak, or more accurately when Dudley learned to, she had come acquainted very fluently with the mundane act of getting told on. Dudley didn't seem to be able to do any wrong in the eyes of adults and always spoke of truth and respect.

Mind the sarcasm. Part of her wondered if the entire world was filled with adults that believed in people like Dudley or if it was just Little Whinging that was stupid and utterly ignorant. Though, it wasn't all the adults faults when it came to believing him, his parents, her aunt and uncle, were quite experienced in pulling the sheet over one's eyes.

They were able to convince most people where she lived that Dudley was a good boy while she, herself was a nasty influence even at a young age. Maybe that is why people readily believed that I had 'fallen' down the stairs. If falling had anything to do with two grubby, meaty hands putting sudden force on my back as I was about to go down the stairs, then yes, I fell. A part of Starla couldn't really blame him, he was a horrible monster that treated her like crap all the time, but she could see that he was just imitating his parent's actions. She still hated him, but she understood him to the same degree.

Starla looked around in the room around her. She was in one of those big rooms where they took care of physical problems. Apparently, it was packed today and they were only giving private rooms to people with diseases that were in anyway contagious. Starla sighed and relaxed throwing her hands up and grabbing the metal stands that held up the bed she was on. The soothing cold of the metal, however, quickly left and Starla was left with just a lukewarm piece of junk.

She let her hands fall back to her sides and watched as nurses and doctors hurriedly entered the room to check on a few people then left with great haste, obviously burdened with another, more important task. She looked around the room and observed the people in the room with her. There were mostly adults that she could see, with a few younger children, accompanied by their worried parents. To her some of the wounds they had were quite humorous.

There were many people who had just broken one of the their bones and was waiting for more adequate casts, but there were also some people who had accidentally eaten mundane objects, from what the x-rays at the foot of their beds implied, and others had cut off one of their minor appendages. There was one guy who was holding his foot with both of his hands, an attempt to lessen the pain for sure.

However, Starla quickly grew bored with the people in the room, and reached under the bed to get out one of the few things her aunt had ever bought her. It was around last year that her aunt seemed to grow what seemed to be a heart and taught me a bit of sewing. It was probably one of the best periods of her, admittedly, short life, but it had all come to an end one it was her birthday.

Starla had awoken with no intention on finding a present under the tree for her, and neither had Dudley, so when he had complained about the 'girly present' Starla had been shocked. Her aunt explained that it was actually a gift for Starla, a sewing kit. Starla had never noticed the incredibly hard frown that had encased her uncle's face. Even now Starla looked on that day as the best day of her life, but it all quickly crumbled down the next morning. Starla had woken up in a happy mood for the first time for her lucid life and was going to enjoy it by sewing with her aunt.

However, when she had went to the kitchen and looked at her aunt, waiting for the stern yet softer than usual expression she had been wearing the past few weeks, she had been unpleasantly shocked by the now completely stern and absolutely cruel frown on her face. When Starla timidly asked if they could sew together she found that the overall mood her aunt was putting on seemed more forced then real, but was hurt by the denial that had come swiftly after her request.

Ever since then, Starla had continued to sew, having taken to making little rag dolls with little designs. She treated them as friends, something that she was sorely lacking due to Dudley's heavy-handed manipulation of the school yard. I guess threatening to punch somebody or call them names for the rest of the year were pretty remarkable at this age if her social life had anything to say about it.

So now working on one of her newest dolls, a pure yellow one with normal black button eyes, but had an infinity sign on its stomach. She liked the infinity sign, mostly because it went on forever.

Something that she wanted these dolls of hers to one day be able to do. She wanted to make a doll that would see nations crumble and kingdoms rise from the ashes! Yes! Her dolls would be the ever observant watchers of-!

"Deary, what are you thinking about? I've never seen such a happy thoughtful look on such a young face."

Starla turned her attention to the slightly accented and old voice, more than a little annoyed at being interrupted in one of her inner rants, and was about to tell the lady off with some of the words she had picked up during one of her uncle's bad days at work, but was shocked into silence at the look of the old woman.

She had shoulder length, gray hair that still looked soft and had some of it pulled up in a bun on top of her head. Though, what was really shocking about the older woman was that her wrinkles had wrinkles and her necklace which was encumbered by bones of different small animals, probably squirrels or rats. The old woman took Starla's shocked silence amazingly well and continued to speak.

"That is a very beautiful doll that you are making dear, who taught you." Starla's shock fell away to sadness, the most common emotion when she was asked that. She replied, "I-It was m-my a-aunt who taught me, but she stopped teaching me a long time ago."

The old woman looked on in sympathy and asked, "Did she die, dear?"

Starla almost let out a sob, figuratively her aunt had died, but she didn't say that, "No, she is very much alive and kicking, she just doesn't have any more time for this freak."

Starla would never forget about how after spending time with her aunt for all that time, she was pulled back into the embrace of hate and sadness by the very person that she had come to see as a light on her path.

The old woman seemed to mirror Starla's earlier shock, and was silent for a while before reaching down into a black bag that looked like an arts and crafts project of her own design then something you buy.

She dug her arms into the pouch sometimes going elbow deep into the thing, making Starla wonder about how big it was on the inside, and then seemed to gain a pleasantly surprised look on her face, showing that she had found what she was looking for.

Pulling her arm out, Starla was greeted with the site of a rather weird looking dream catcher. It was brown and had an amazing spiral pattern along with a smooth blue stone in the middle.

"Right here is my hobby, I make dream catchers." The old lady said with a smile.

Starla looked on in wonder at the creation, glancing at her doll wondering if she would ever be able to make something so mesmerizing.

The old lady caught the discreet glance and let out a slight chuckle and said "Don't worry dear, you have ages to perfect your craft."

Starla gave the old woman a small smile in thanks and continued looking at the doll in her hand. The old woman seemed to be thinking something over in her head, before coming to a decision.

She moved her head a tiny bit to get Starla's attention and said, "Do you want to see something amazing, dear?" Starla nods her head in curiosity and eagerness.

The old woman nods her head once and then raises her dream catcher, waving it in the air while also muttering under her breath. Starla feels her eye lids drooping, but powers through it with her will, before noticing that everyone in the room also seemed to be fighting a sudden bout of sleepiness. Unlike Starla, they didn't last long and eventually people were asleep everywhere in the room. The parents from earlier were strewn across their kid's bed, while even the man who was holding his foot in pain earlier was out like baby.

She turned her head so fast to the old woman that it was a surprise that she didn't get minor whiplash. "H-how did you do that? You made t-them fall asleep!"

"That's the power of the voodoo for you, dear. It has many branches of power, all of them deadly and useful in their own right."

The old woman looked at Starla with an excited twinkle in her eye, "And, you shook of that minor sleeping curse like a pro. You have a lot of potential to learn Voodoo."

Starla felt a bit overwhelmed, but even more excited. This Voodoo sounded like gold to her ears, and she would bet her sewing needles that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. "I want to learn Voodoo, mam, but what is Voodoo."

From the way the woman smiled, Starla assumed that she had asked the right question.

"Voodoo is one of the many branches of Magic, dear. There are many people in this world who practice different types of magic, like the wizards and witches found commonly here in Europe or Practitioners of Voodoo like me and...you, dear."

Starla felt tears coming to her eyes as the impact of all this finally hit her. She was being given a gift like no other by a stranger that didn't even know her name. "Miss, whats your name?"

The old woman smiled once more, this time showing off her surprisingly white teeth, "My names Eldra, dear, and what's yours?"

"My name is Starla."

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**A Few Days Later...**

Starla sat down on the floor in her 'room', the room being a cupboard that was supposed to be used for things that didn't breath or bleed after a nasty bleeding. Eldra hadn't been able to teach Starla many things in the short time they were there, but she had been given a rather large book, that had taken some time to hide, about Voodoo.

It was a special collection of many books that Eldra had been given at the beginning of her Voodoo career by her mother, and because she didn't have any children of her own, she had decided to give it to Starla.

To the yes of anyone else it had blank pages, but the current and past owners of the book could see that some of the first pages were filled up. Eldra had explained to Starla that the book would grow along side Starla and only show her things that it thought she was ready to learn.

It was made of powerful Voodoo enchantments that had been created hundreds of years ago, so there was a low chance of anyone ever breaking into something they might not be ready for. The book however, from what Starla had seen, was pretty vague at times, opting for the reader to make their own path as a Voodoo Practitioner. Right now, Starla was working on her Voodoo Familiar Object. An object that paved the road for Voodoo Practitioners.

From what she had learned from Eldra, it was similar to the wands that wizards used to focus their magic, but the difference was that Practitioners didn't need the constant use of their Familiar Object unless they were doing something big. The Familiar Object also paved the road to what specialty that the Practitioner was going to use. Eldra showed Starla at the hospital her Familiar Object, hers being a small, blue dream catcher that seemed to hum and sing with power.

Since her Familiar Object was a dream catcher, her specialty was curses that dealt with dreams and falling asleep. The act of picking and creating a Familiar Object was a sacred ritual in the eyes of all Practitioners and to pick one without the proper respect was considered an insult to the art as a whole. Starla had already picked her specialty once she had heard of it.

The art of Voodoo Dolls, something that made Starla stretch her toes in excitement, was an art that dealt with weaving a small part of somebody's soul into dolls that needed to be made to resemble the victim. After the requirements were down, curses that influenced the victim were used, like making them feel drowsy or confident, or something more deadly like hurting them by pricking the doll with a needle or burning it.

Starla had almost jumped Eldra when she heard of the art of Voodoo Dolls, and was only stopped by her hurt leg. Now, however, was time of great concentration. To make a successful Familiar Object, you had to weave your soul into the craft and will it complete, leaving no loose ends. If there was a loose end left, there were major dangers that could come with it.

The soul might escape if not weaved properly and that would cause the Familiar Object to destroy itself, while also damaging the Practitioners soul, making it impossible for them to learn Voodoo, until their souls healed, which took over four years if what Eldra said was true.

Not able to bear with not being able to practice for four years, Starla put all her mind into making this object. She focused and focused, not noticing the pulling sensation in her forehead, while sewing as precisely as she could.

Starla started panting slightly as the pain from giving a part of her soul to the doll started to get to her, as well as an annoying headache in her head. Starla continued like this for over an hour, her burdens becoming progressively worse, until she reached the climax of the ritual.

The pain became greater than she had ever felt, and then, quick as blowing out a candle, the pain ended. Starla dropped her utensils, laying on her back to relax and try to get the phantom pains of the procedure to dissipate faster.

She forced her yes open and looked at the finished creation in her hands. It was like any regular doll with black buttons, but it pure black and had a green lightning mark on its forehead, close to where Starla's mark is. It seemed to hum in the same way that Eldra's Familiar Object had hummed with power, and had a comforting feeling that made her feel safe.

It also had a darker feeling to it, something that surprised her, but she welcomed nonetheless. It was her doll and soul after all so there was no need to be afraid of it. At the thoughts on her mark, Starla realized that for some reason she had pains in her forehead, something quite uncommon. She looked at the mirror in the room and brushed her hair back, curious about what happened to her head.

Her mouth fell open in shock when she saw that her lightning mark had gotten incredibly less visible, actually looking on its way to disappearing completely. The ritual was supposed to only affect parts of the soul to give a better connection to dolls in general and increase her focus, but for some reason it had affected something in her head as well.

Why was there a soul in her forehead? You don't exactly pick them up on the street, no matter how many dark alleys you go down or polluted lakes you drink from, not that she did that. The soul didn't seem to mess anything up, actually she felt the connection much stronger than she would have at the beginning. Maybe that soul fused with her own completely, rather than just being a passive parasite? She let the idea rest and simply got back to the book.

She had things to plan and the means to follow them through. With this power she would see that her dolls live on forever, the epiphany of design, culture, and power. She grinned evilly and thought of all things that she would do in the future with this power, but for now, Revenge.

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**A/N: This has been in mind a while now. You know, something that I throw around in my head as I walk from one class to another and during class. Yeah. So thanks for reading and tell me how you like it. **

**Also if you didn't quite catch it, the headache was due to the soul of Voldemort being pulled into the doll as well. Right now the soul has made the connection that Starla has with the doll stronger.**


	2. Needle A Little Help

**Stitches**

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In one of the nicest beds she had ever seen, or slept in, a six-year old Starla woke up to the alarm clock that sat beside her bed, exactly at six. She looked at the room she resided in with a satisfactory smile, happiness evident in her eyes. She had worked hard on her Voodoo studies and was able to reap the rewards rather quickly. One of the first things she learned to do was weaving somebody's soul into a doll, something that is easy to say, but complicated to do.

Where as during the ceremony Starla participated in took a rather large chunk of her soul and weaved it into the doll, causing massive amounts of pain and agony for Starla during the process, a regular doll only needed a sliver of the person's soul to make a suitable connection, causing discomfort at best. After she got the sliver she had to hold it with her concentration while sewing the doll, inserting the doll. It had taken a while to get used to doing it on living things, but she practiced on dogs and other animals that were easy to keep in place for the process. She still remembered her first dog doll.

When the book discusses dolls for animals and the need for them to still resemble the animal, it had taken Starla over a week to improve her abilities to crafting dolls for animals. The dolls for dogs were easy enough, but ones for birds and turtles were slightly harder and difficult to actually craft successfully and in her allotted time, which she set up herself due to the suggestions in the book.

After she had gotten it down pat, the book taught her how to weave the souls and gave her the assignment of making a doll on an animal of some kind. Lucky for her, Vernon's sister Marge, who breed bulldogs for a living, and brought her favorite bulldog, Ripper. Starla had waited until nighttime before getting near Ripper, not wanting to be seen by anybody, and began the process of weaving his doll.

She got out her thread and needles, along with the scraps of cloth she would need to complete the operation. She began by seeking out the souls around her, having to concentrate really hard to search, and looked until finally finding the soul of the dog. Holding onto it tightly, Starla began her first attempt at weaving the soul slowly into the doll she was making of it. It took Starla almost over one hour to complete, and afterwords Starla was slightly drained emotionally from all the high levels of concentration she had to do, but she did successfully.

When she went back to the book it had unlocked the next few pages, and these one were fun. Starla guessed that the book had expected her eagerness to actually use the doll, and had explained to Starla the mirror effect in which the dolls possessed. Basically, whatever she did with the doll would affect the person or animal it was representing. At first Starla was eager to just burn one of the legs, but she eventually chose one of the small level curses that the book gave her to use.

She sat the Ripper doll down onto the ground and muttered some unheard words while also holding her Familiar Object, which helped her focus the magic with her will easier. What she settled for in the end was a fear curse that made the victim become scared of things that originally didn't faze them at all. She she woke up that morning, along with the rest of the family, she had been pleasantly surprises when they saw Ripper cowering in the corner of the kitchen because of what looked like a small mouse.

Though the fun didn't last for long, no matter how much fun it was to watch Aunt Marge trying to get Ripper into his cage or even the truck when she decided to bring him to the vet, and so Starla tried out one of the more simple and straightforward methods that the book explained. Starla got out the Ripper doll and revealed the cloth scissors that came with her sewing kit and raised them. She held them up for a second, trying to make suspense, and thrust them upon the doll, right in the neck, making sure it was a one shot kill.

Uncle Vernon had gotten a call from a distraught Aunt Marge minutes later, yelling about her dog dying from a mysterious stab wound to the neck. Ah yes, good times, but back to the present, after learning how to sew animals, Starla sped through her studies, since she had quite a lack of other things to do but study, and became quite capable of sewing human souls up too.

Along with the amazing power of making human dolls, Starla had also increased her field of range in which people had to be in so that she could sew their souls. Right now she could reach a few yards without her Familiar Object, and close to a mile with it in her hands. With her new range it had been easy to sew the souls of her Aunt and Uncle, along with Dudley.

Until then, Starla had seen her family as a nuisance and an obstacle in her way, but she quickly found worth in them. No matter how ugly, noisy, annoying, ignorant, stupid, temperamental, and prone to betray people they were, those three individuals were her family...and the most conveniently placed training dummies.

She wasn't able to use any of the curses she knew to disrupt their financial life, since she didn't want the lack of money to affect her, but she could torture them subtle and influence their decisions on social matters.

Since she had gained suitable influence, she put a fear curse on Dudley, causing him to become the one who was bullied now due to his lack of bold confidence, attached an avoidable curse on Vernon, which made people around him want to avoid him his wife and son included, and had taken extra glee in putting a depression curse on Petunia.

The curse would make her have depressing thoughts that would affect her daily day, social encounters, and there was nothing any type of medicine could do about it. The curse even had the chance of making her commit suicide, something that had incensed Starla to use it.

The thought of making the woman who had raised her spirits then crushed them with an iron fist feel the same sadness, despair, and hopelessness she did made Starla want to sing in the air. Sometimes, Starla would just stab them a nit with her sewing scissors or slice them with it, not enough for them to get suspicious, but enough for them to notice it. She once set her Uncles hair on fire, ah the memories.

Starla had also used a very flexible compulsion curse that she used to influence her Aunt and Uncle to give her Dudley's extra room, a hearty upgrade from cupboard. Dudley complained only once before she had given him her best glare, something that when coupled alongside the fear curse had made Dudley pee himself before submitting.

So yeah life was pretty good for herself right now. However, at the moment, she needed to get up for school now. She got up from her very comfortable bed, and put on her cloths. She didn't like standing out very much, so Starla had taken to wearing dark clothing. Today she was wearing a black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a black jacket that she wrapped around her waist.

It was with these cloths that made it easier to blend in and become less noticeable. After Starla brushed her teeth, she went downstairs and was met with an amusing picture. Dudley sitting at the table looking utterly nervous, evident from the constant tapping on the table with his pudgy fingers, Petunia slowly preparing breakfast with an unhappy look on her face, all the while Vernon was subjected to his family trying to keep distance from him. I wonder if he can remember the last time he was kissed by his wife or hugged by his son.

* * *

Little Whining Elementary School. A two-story school known locally for keeping kids in line, teaching the responsibilities that come with age, and shoving knowledge and homework done student's throats. A school that Starla hated. Though, it might not be school in general that she hated, school, after all, is a place of learning, something Starla greatly enjoys, but Little Whinging Elementary School itself.

The place was filled with double standards and stereotypes, most of them, she found, were directed towards herself. All through the day she had to deal with students either ignoring her, which she didn't mind, or insulting her in the only way kids knew how. One specific group of kids, being lead by a rather strongly built kid, was the worst.

They quickly learned that the insults weren't working on her so they decided to use other means. 'Accidentally' pushing her into mud puddles, which made the teachers have to send her home for more cloths, and other stupid things that would have irritated and angered any other person. Not Starla, however, she had learned after a particularly hard time with Dudley, coincidentally right before she basically neutered his confidence, that if you mask your emotions and just seem indifferent people will slowly leave you alone.

She couldn't be mad at the kids, well not to outrageous levels, fore they were still young and lacked any social teachings. No, what made Starla angry at school was when she had went up to her teacher after the first time she had been pushed into the puddle. He had smiled a little, obviously finding it funny, before saying, and I quote, "There just having some fun, now go to the office and get cleaned up."

His blatant disregard of her state of being had filled Starla with such animosity that even herself was slightly scared of the raging emotions inside her. The teacher was young, around his late twenties, with brown hair that was cut in a rugged looking bowl hairdo along with blue eyes that always seemed to twinkle. He seemed to be new to the job or at least inexperienced in handling kids of her age, but the amusement he found in her woes and dismissal of her concerns reminded her to much of her Aunt and Uncle before she had fixed them. The next day, she brought her sewing kit to class and took a seat in the back.

During recess, Starla had sat down on a stump near where the teachers looked over the play ground and had focused solely on the teacher. Starla had no idea how much discomfort she had caused the teacher, not only because of her messing with his soul, but because she would occasionally stare, unblinking, at the male while working on a doll that he found creepily resembled him. Starla was able to complete the doll just in time for recess to be over and had waited until she was a home to continue her plan.

Since she had no emotional connections tot he teacher, he was the perfect subject for her more fatal curses. She studied all night and gathered the needed supplies to successfully curse him, before going to school the next day. During the middle of his class, she went to one of the bathroom stalls, where she put her plan into action. Gathering up some dirt she had gathered, she sprinkled it on to the Teacher Doll and began mumbling the needed words to help mold the her magic to influence the doll.

When she went back to her seat in the classroom, she was met with a class devoid of their teacher, who had went out for an unknown reason, merely telling the class that he would "Be right back". Starla didn't have to wait for long, before she saw their missing teacher fall from the top of the school, landing in a sprawling mess of unnatural angles and lifeless eyes. The curse she had put on the poor teacher was one from the suicidal division, the falling curse, the name it was known by, made the victim get as high as they conveniently could and unhesitatingly jump to their, hopefully, deaths.

One of the problems of the curse was the chance that the victim wasn't able to get somewhere high enough to die. There had been and uproar at school for the rest of the month. News teams, police men, and irate parents swarmed the scene. The New teams tried to get in a few questions from the traumatized kids, but wasn't able to get out much. The police men were looking into the psychological profile of the teacher and were scratching their heads in confusion about why the teacher would commit such a deed.

However, the most known presence at the school for the rest of that month was the close to rioting parents. All of them were foaming at the mouths in anger at the school system and their decision to hire somebody who had to have been in the wrong mind. Starla almost regretted what she did, not because she felt guilty of his death, but because of all the annoyances that had taken the teachers place.

Speaking of taking his place, a new female teacher that Starla didn't bother learning took his place. She was more experienced with kids and even told off some of the boys who messed with her. Yeah, she was defiantly a keeper.

* * *

**Three Years Later...**

* * *

A nine-year-old Starla looks on with bored bright green eyes at the board in front of her, only paying half of her actual attention to the board for when a teacher were to ask her a question.

Over the years Starla had gotten far a head in her studies, both muggle, the term for non-magical folk, and Voodoo, and she had even became more familiar with Magical England. When she was about eight, Starla had reached a point where she had to have more peculiar ingredients to get powerful curses or her secondary study, powders, done. For Voodoo Practitioners, there was a time after perfecting their main craft that they stretched their limbs into other specialties.

These specialties would take longer to learn because of the lack of a Familiar Object for that particular studies. When Starla was suggested by the book to begin her secondary path, it had taken her a while to decide. She thought about choosing Dream Catchers like Eldra, but she realized that the power to manipulate or influence people through dreams didn't appeal to her. So, after a great deal of indecision and blind guessing, Starla finally chose Art of the Voodoo Powder as her second study.

You could compare it to the wizards equivalent of potions, where as they both used a variety of ingredients to a number of effects, but where potions was a liquid and exact, powder was in a fine sand like texture and had less requirements of detail than potions did, relying more on magical influence and incantations on the concoction.

With this new study, Starla had required many things that you can't exactly get at a supermarket or ask for without either getting weird looks or having the police come and take you away. No, Starla had needed somewhere that sold things like that, somewhere...magical.

It had been hard to fins the magical world of England, but in the time she had been with Eldra, she could remember the location of it slightly. So, after many hours of fruitless searching, Starla, who was now wearing a black beanie that she had found at yard sale during her search, had found the entrance of the magical world at a rundown looking bar, the Leaky Cauldron.

It was easy to feel the magic that ran through some of the individual there, and even easier to get the barkeeper to let her in, making up a sob story of accidentally getting lost while trying to find her mother. When she had gotten back that afternoon she had found a great number of things about herself. Apparently, her parents were wizards themselves, something that kind of shocked Starla, and they had died by the hands of an evil and sadistic Dark Lord by the name of Voldemort or he-who-must-not-be-named.

Also, even more interesting, Starla was known in England's Magical community as the girl-who-lived. With all these stupid names flying around in the Magical world, Starla was never more grateful for her name. However, her mood had been dampened by the numerous magical animals that she would have to learn to sew and weave. She didn't know if all the animals would react the same, but she had to give it a try somehow.

Yeah, it had been an eventful few years, something she wasn't complaining about. Even if in the future she had plans to become a hermit, like most Practitioners did at some point in their life, she still liked excitement. Now it was only a few more years before she would go to Hogwarts. A part of her had been against going to Hogwarts in the beginning, but the thought of doing her deceased parents proud by going to the school played a big part in deciding.

Starla yawned once more, muffling it with her hand as she fought the sleepiness that came with the boredom of this class. She hoped that at such a refined and magical school like Hogwarts wouldn't have such boring lessons, but she didn't get her hopes up, it was still a SCHOOL. All she could hope for was that there wasn't a class that, no matter how hard you tried, it would still put you to sleep successfully every single time you started listening to the teacher.

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**A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if not please say why, and I hope you will tune in for the next one. On to the topic on this chapter, I really wrote this chapter so that I could showcase some of Starla's growing skill and her interaction with the Magical World. **

**Also, this chapter was useful for making sure that I wouldn't make to big of a Time Skip. Next time, Starla's going to Hogwarts after another Time skip.**


	3. Strung Seamlessly Together

**Stitches**

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**A/N: hello! Thank you for giving this chapter a chance, it was a hard one write for me. To me the train ride is an important, but really boring scene that made it really hard for me to finish it or just skip over it.**

* * *

An eleven year old Starla jolted awake, having accidentally fallen asleep and looked around in the little room she was in. It was kind of disconcerting since it would often bring up memories of my cupboard, but Starla had pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. She lifted her head, still covered by her black beanie hat that she had grown attached to, and took her sewing kit out of her bag, trying to relax her mind with her favorite activity. She started on the doll, this time making one that would resemble a princess, and started to drift off.

The magical world held so much potential and the last few years Starla had definitely played upon it. She was able to advance steadily in her Doll craft due to all the resources the Magical world provided, like ingredients. With the ingredients she was able to cast new curses onto people who irritated her, mostly the children in her school who picked on her. She resisted from casting higher level curses, but she did take out a lot of aggression on the 'pretty' girls that would call her ugly or weird.

She didn't mind them saying things about her, but they also commented on her dolls and called them a waste of space and time. They had run from the uncharacteristic and pure rage that had swept over Starla's usually emotionless face when they made that comment.

For the rest of the week, the girls were unable to keep anything from running out of their lips, all their thoughts instantly translated into words. Caused a lot of confusion and anger for many people, especially that one girl who was curious about why her father was kissing her mother's assistant.

Starla had laughed when she heard from the doll what had happened. That was another thing she had learned to do. If she held the doll up to her ear, it would tell her things about the person.

Anything she wanted to know it would tell her, like dreams, thoughts, and even recent events. It was the best when you wanted to have backup blackmail. Among other things she had went through the past few years, Starla's curse on Petunia had successfully done its job.

One day Starla had woken up, early as usual, and had went downstairs, only to meet a pleasant surprise of Petunia hanging herself. If Starla was really true with herself though, she had felt a small part of her die that day seeing her Aunt just there but not there.

Since then she had become more obsessed with learning about dolls. That was the problem with humans, they died and left her, just becoming a husk, but no the dolls, they were an eternal art and would never leave her. She, herself, was mildly shamed of herself, watching herself grow and grow closer and closer to the demise of all humans.

However, she had seen hints in the book that there were ways to stop that, but it was very advanced and not an easy or very safe path. Back to the Petunia event, after the funeral Vernon and Dudley's relationship had almost completely broken. Dudley didn't want anything to do with his father due to he curse she put her uncle and Vernon,with the combined stress of being avoided, his wife's death, and just life, wasn't able to care about his child.

Starla was jolted from her memories when the door was opened by a red-haired child the same age as her. He looked at Starla with a grin and asked, "Is it okay if I sit here?" Starla looked at him with her unnerving neutral voice for a few seconds before saying,

"Only if you keep quiet and don;t bother me." The boy seemed to be a bit taken back at the near emotionless voice that she possessed, but the reaction was common for people who hadn't ever heard Starla speak. The boy got over his discomfort quickly and sat down opposite of Starla and looked at her, before saying, "My name is Ron Weasley, what's yours?"

Starla let out a breath of air, this boy seemed to think she was looking for a conversation, she looked up and set curtly, "My name is Starla." Ron seemed to get the message of her not wanting to talk and sat back gazing out the window. Starla let out a small sigh of relief that the boy had gotten the message. She resumed her doll making, once again gaining the interest of Ron. She felt his gaze land on her and she asked, "Yes? Is there something you want to say?" Ron flinched back at getting caught and said nervously, "W-well I was just wondering what was with the doll?" "It's my hobby, I've done ever since I was five."

"Well. I mean, don;t you think it is kind of, um, childish to still be playing with dolls?" Ron quickly regretted saying anything when Starla looked at him with a look of undiluted anger in her eye, and that coupled along with her ever-stoic face freaked him out. Starla was about to start on a Ron doll when the door was opened once again, this time by a familiar blond aristocratic looking first-year.

The boy spotted Ron, ignoring Starla's presence, and said "Well hello, Weasel, hows your family still do-

"Draco." Both boys were shocked at the interruption, Ron was shocked at how Starla knew Draco's name, and Draco being shocked at being interrupted by someone he didn't even know was there.

When he looked at Starla, recognition and fear swept through his eyes. The door was quickly slammed shut by the kid. Ron looked on in even more shock at how Starla's presence had frightened Draco.

Starla gave a small twitch of her lip, the closet she ever comes to smiling, and said, "Me and him ran into each other a while back, I must have made a good impression on him." Ron's jaw dropped a bit at the flippant way I described Draco's obvious fear of me, but I didn't notice, to caught up in memories.

* * *

_Flashback_

* * *

_Starla walked into the room that the old lady had gestured to and saw a blonde boy with his arms outstretched, obviously waiting for the woman to get back. Starla took her position beside the boy as the woman resumed her work on the both of them, tailoring there cloths for use in the coming year of Hogwarts. _

_The boy glanced at me, seeming to size me up, and I was able to tell by his constantly smug face and aristocratic features that he was what people her called a 'pureblood'. _

_Starla, herself, never understood the reasons behind the different terms, but she didn't pay it any mind, it didn't bother her at all. It wasn't long before the boy started up a conversation which began with him basically telling her that he was a big shot, bragging about his daddy's position in the Magical World, and then went on to insult her because of her living with muggle caretakers, something that really irked her. _

_Starla hated many things in this world, some things being people who insulted her dolls, or wasted her time, but he thing that really made her furious was people who in any way reminded her of her muggle caretakers. This arrogant, little blonde prick was right up the latter alley and was asking for punishment._

_Starla didn't have the time or patience in her anger to make a doll for the kid, but she did have her more readily available powder. She dug in her pouch hurriedly, one that had a large space in it, and pulled out a small jar or purplish powder. _

_Draco, she had come to learn his name from his incessant blowing of his own horn, looked on in confusion as she unscrewed the lid, not really seeing anything to be concerned about, and was immediately shocked when Starla gathered a bit in her hand and threw it on his face. After he accidentally inhaled some, Draco glared at the girl before growing pale at what he saw. Instead of seeing the shop and the pale green-eyed girl, Draco encountered the gaze of his father and his mother. _

_Draco looked up and saw that his father's eyes were filled with disappointment and his mother's were also. Draco's parents both turned around and walked off, not ever turning back. Draco tried to run after them, but he wasn't fast enough and all of his yells were unheard by his parent's unwavering decent into the quickly growing darkness. _

_Out side of the nightmare, Starla's lips twitched a bit, the only thing that showed her amusement. The powder she had used was one that showed someone there deepest nightmares. Very useful when dealing with 'big shots' and 'holier-than-thou' type of people._

_As Draco dwelt in his fear, Starla was given her Hogwart's cloths and put in a special order for later use._

* * *

_Flashback_

* * *

Ron refrained from asking about Starla's first meeting with Draco when he saw the manic sparkle in her eye, it wasn't a pleasant change from the stoic and emotionless look those eyes held earlier. It didn't just look creepy, it also felt creepy and overall dangerous.

Starla and Ron were interrupted by the door opening again, and along came a bushy brown-haired girl who wasted no time for introductions before asking if they had seen a toad running around. Getting negative answers, the girl left, along with a very shy boy called Neville if the bushy-headed girl was correct.

Starla remembered her earlier anger at Ron and put down the doll she was making. Ron watched in interest as she got out a rather long rectangular box from the pouch on her side opened it up, revealing a massive collection of different sewing materials like colored cloths, rolls of thread, and several different sized needles, and stuffing.

Ron was interested in the box's material, he didn't see the critical eye that Starla was giving him, if he had he would have felt like a turkey on thanksgiving. Starla got out the necessary items and began, weaving part of the boy's soul into the doll as she went. Ron twitched in his seat as he felt an uncomfortable tugging sensation in his stomach, it didn't feel like a regular stomach ache.

It had a more malicious edge then a regular affliction. He looked over to Starla's doll and was slightly unnerved at the growing resemblance between himself and the inanimate plaything. It felt that the doll wasn't as meaningless as he originally thought, but brushed the thoughts away.

He was thankfully pulled from his thoughts by the door opening to reveal the bushy haired girl from earlier. She quickly introduced herself as Hermione Granger. Hermione looked over at Starla and became curious.

Unaware of Ron's warning look, noticing the same curiosity he had earlier in her eye, Hermione asked, "Is that a doll?" Starla looked up from her work, and subjected Hermione to one of her unnerving stoic stares and said, "Yes?" Hermione flinched back at the intimidating look and asked, "I-I used to play with dolls when I was younger, it seems like an interesting hobby." Ron visibly relaxed, but was unprepared at the twitch of a smile that appeared on Starla's face. Starla responded,

"Yes, I took up the hobby a long time ago, my Aunt taught me before she died," She glanced at Ron with a noticeably cooler gaze and continued, "Some people don't seem to appreciate the art as much as I do." Ron couldn't hide the small smile that came from Starla calling the dolls 'art'. To him it was just a childish gesture and really immature. Starla noticed the small smile and resumed working on her doll, speckles of rage in her eye.

Ron felt the uncomfortable tug in his gut return and instantly tried to put it to rest by using any methods. Hermione seemed to notice the discomfort he was feeling and asked, "Are you not feeling well?" Ron looked at her with a weak grin and replied, "I'm fine, somethings just bothering me, it will probably pass in a while. Neither of the first years saw Starla's lips twitch in glee.

Starla finished up the last few details and put in the required stuffing. She sat the Ron Doll, completed, and Ron seemed to sigh with relief, obviously enjoying the absence of the unnerving feeling, not knowing that it was his soul being messed with. Ron and Hermione both noticed the completed Doll laying in Starla's lap. They were both considerably unnerved by the resemblance it held towards Ron, Ron, himself, more unnerved than Hermione.

Starla noticed the stares her creation was getting and held it up for them to see. She pointedly looked at Ron, but spoke to both of them when she said, 'See, Doll-making is truly a remarkable and fabulous art." Ron found the Doll to be creepy for the most part, but both of the observers had to admit that it was work of a true expert.

It had Ron's light skin coloring, his red hair, and his blue eyes,a ll down pat. It even had the doll in the cloths he was wearing, matched to a T, along with the splash of freckles that littered his face. Though, the use of blue buttons for eyes creeped him out, finding it a bit strange for something that looked just like him to have such abnormal eyes.

Starla seemed to sense their awe of the doll's artistic appearance and had to force a twitch of happiness from appearing on her face. Starla let them gaze at the doll for a few more seconds before putting it back into her pouch, causing Ron to feel a tiny unexplained emptiness in his gut.

Starla closed her box of supplies and returned it to her pouch. Starla closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the seat she was in. Ron and Hermione caught the dismissive atmosphere the gesture had and started talking about all the things they had heard about Hogwarts.

The bland, in Starla's opinion, conversation consisted of Hermione supplying fun facts of Hogwarts that had read in her book and Ron explained the details and rules of Quidditch to Hermione, who seemed politely interested.

Starla had to give them both props, Hermione seemed like someone would want to become friends with for a good grade, if they got past her personality, and Ron seemed enamored and knowledgeable on the Magical game of Quidditch. Starla opened her eyes a bit and watched the landscape fly past them.

From what she had learned, from talking to some of the people in town was that the sorting would consist of a magical hat sifting through your thoughts and personality and pick the most productive place for you. There was Griffindor, for the brave and courageous, Slytherin, for the cunning and ambitious, Hufflepuff, for the loyal and hard-working, and Ravenclaw, the home of the knowledgeable and studious. They all seemed to be possible places for the hat to put her in, but her mind was in war with its self.

Where did it want to go!? The house she was hoping for was either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw would be a great place for her to grow, what with all the healthy influences, and Hufflepuff seemed like a nice place of her to hide, I mean, whose going to look for a vengeful Practitioner in Hufflepuff?!

She might have considered Slytherin if the house wasn't known for throwing out Dark Lords and their underlings.

She was jolted from her indecision by the magical blaring voice that went through the room, '_Please, all students dress to Hogwart's standards at this time, I repeat, Please, all students dress to Hogwart's standards at this time._'

Ron stood up and said, "Well, let's get changing," He started to take off his cloths before realizing that both Hermione and Starla were sending him and realizing what he had said. He chuckled nervously and said, "I-I mean... I'll just head outside..."Ron exited the room with his head down in embarrassment. Hermione and Starla quickly changed for Hogwarts, before Ron came back as well. The first years headed out to the place where they were being called by a large man.

Starla watched as all the kids stood in place, hurriedly running to and from place to place, all of them nervous. Her lip twitched a bit in her variation of a smirk and thought of all the things she would accomplish this year, but first, she had to deal with a certain red-headed Weasley.

* * *

**A/N: hello! Thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you like. Also, some people asked if there was a definite pairing for this story, and if it might be Voldemort who gets lucky. I am sorry to say that I haven't picked a specific pairing for her, but Voldemort is not on the list of contenders for Starla's heart. There is also a good chance that she will not be paired up at all.**

**I also have an idea about Starla taking on an apprentice during some of her later years, it is a far off goal, but I would like to hear how you react to it. Once again, thank you for reading.**


	4. Be A Doll Would You

**Stitches**

Starla looked around the grand hall and had to admit, she was impressed.

The large room filled with rambunctious children of all ages, amazing architect that made Starla's inner-craftsman swoon with happiness, and the amazing ceiling that seemed to represent the sky outside with the use of magic was something that Starla couldn't keep her eyes off of.

Where Voodoo arts was known as a subtle magic, the reason it isn't known publicly among the European Magical World, the magics performed by Wizards and Witches was certainly something to gaze at in all of its extremity and beauty.

All doubts of coming here and wasting her time vanished when she saw this small sample. With the added help of lessons with her Wand and manipulating magic in a new way, Starla had no doubts that she would become someone who even the dispersed and hermit-like Practitioners would look up to as a whole.

Starla's ambitious thoughts were cut short, however, as she noticed the Headmaster. Starla dislikes reminders, and the Headmaster was very big reminder. He was an oldish looking man who had long white hair and bright clothing, but the thing that made Starla's lip twitch downward in her version of a frown was the twinkle in his eye.

That twinkle reminded her of another one of her teachers, she forgot his name, but she usually referred to him as Twinkle-eye, but his twinkling eyes would always be in her memory. The way they would shine in amusement when she would tell him of the other kids pushing her into puddles or pulling her hair. The way he would casually dismiss the accusation as 'just playing around.

Starla shivered in glee as she remembered the way she had taken those twinkling eyes and extinguished the light in them like they were a candle. Fortunately, Starla remembered where she was and cautiously sat down with the rest of the first years, trying to reign in the malice she was feeling at Twinkle-eye 2.0, mentally preparing herself for the coming house picking ceremony into the school. The old Professor, She had said her name, but Starla had never been good with names, came into view once more with an old hat.

Starla looked at the musty, decrepit hat with distaste, leveling a critical gaze at the state of it. The hat seemed ancient and she could feel some magic around it, but her inner-craftsman was once again going berserk and not in a good way. Starla had a feeling that her inner-craftsmen was going to either going to be jumping with joy or dying from a heart-attack by the end of the day. She wasn't expecting the Sorting Hat opening it mouth and in a clear voice singing.

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Starla stood stock still with her mouth open in shock by the Sorting Hat's actions. Instead of just being a regular hat that had minor enchantments, this hat sang a song! A SONG! This was incredible! Starla had no idea that Wizards were capable of such magic.

It was a simple song that it sang, but the amazing enchantments it would require to do such a thing while also moving in coalition with its magically produced voice was amazing. Really, Starla was sort of jealous and mentally wrote herself a note about learning more about constructs such as this.

The thought of having a small army of large and moving dolls made Starla quiver in excitement, her lip was practically going crazy. Starla watched, enraptured by the hat, as it was put on the first year's heads. She didn't really care about which houses any of the others got in, but being able to see such a magnificent creation in action was something she couldn't pass up.

She was so lost in herself and the beauties of the hat, that she forgot her surroundings until the name "Starla Potter" rang through the air. All of the students and faculty members in the Great Hall scanned through the rest of the room, trying to pick out the famous hero that had saved them when she was just a little girl.

Starla sighed to herself, she didn't like the fame she was given for doing nothing. It made it harder to make your own name when you were literally living in a shadow of yourself, kind of funny really.

Starla forced herself to stand as the echos of the name started to dissipate and she could hear the gasps of shock from Red-Hair and Fuzzy-Hair from the Griffindor table. They had obviously not realized that they were talking to their culture's youngest hero and probably even more shocked that she hadn't told them.

Starla could imagine that Fuzzy-Hair would most likely now be berating herself mentally at not putting together the pieces for herself when she had been introduced, while Red-Hair would continue to wallow in his shock for the next few minutes, getting very comfortably situated with the dumb look of enlightenment.

She could feel the stares burning holes on my back and I resisted the urge to turn around a stare right back at them with vehemence. She sat in the chair, taking off the beanie hat that she had worn up until now, that had been placed for all newcomers and welcomed the feeling of the hat being placed in her.

The closeness she had with such a complex creation was amazing, even if it smelt of old people and looked like it had been beaten with the ugly stick.

_'Well, well, well, the young Starla Potter certainly has a way with words.'_

What in the?! Was the Hogwarts Hat really reading her mind?!

_'Yes. Yes I am. Now, lets begin shall we.' _

Hold up, what are you going to do to me?

_'I am about to decide your house Ms. Potter so please quiet down and let me continue.' _

Starla's eyes widened at getting scolded by a hat, a magical hat, but a hat nonetheless.

_'You are a very special case Starla Potter, what with your skills of Voodoo, and experiences in life. You are not particularly courageous, disliking personal encounters, and liking to stick to the walls of society. You are cunning, but your history and own personal goals would get in the way of your growth if I were to put you in Slytherin. You seem to be okay with Hufflepuff, a shock in most of your generation, but you really have your eyes set on Ravenclaw don't you? You certainly seem intelligent enough for it Mrs. Potter and you have the knowledge hungry aspect that most Ravenclaw possess, even if yours is more unstable than usual. Yes I think you will do great things in- _**RAVENCLAW!**_'_

As the hat was removed Starla was confronted by the hundreds of stupefied stares that belonged to the students. They all seemed to be digesting the fact that most of them had been wrong in the assumption of her going into Griffindor, but a swarm of cheering and yells from the Ravenclaw table told her that it had sunk in somewhat.

With her ever impassive face, Starla put her black beanie hat back on, before heading off towards the table and students that she would come know for the rest of her school career. At first they seemed to be a little awkward or nervous in speaking with her, most likely from her fame in the Magical Community, but they quickly warmed up to her.

Well, as much as they could, for her title wasn't the only thing that freaked them out or unnerved them, no, her emotionless face and closed off emotions were another thing that made her seem less approachable.

They were also uncomfortable about the searching stare she gave them, making them feel like they were put on an examining table and cut open. Starla looked over to the Griffindor table, the loudest one, and quickly found Fuzzy-Hair talking to some of the other girls.

However, she must have said the wrong thing, because the other girls started to ignore her and start another conversation, visibly leaving Fuzzy-Hair out of the loop.

Starla couldn't help but remember with a twitching lip, her own despicable childhood, where as she had embraced the loneliness and made friends with her dolls, Fuzzy-Hair didn't seem to be the person who could find friends like her own in the same way that Starla had. However, Starla disliked reminders and the depressed atmosphere around Fuzzy-Hair was certainly a reminder.

She lowered her head as the rest of her classmates paid her no attention, Starla mentally sighed in relief at the fact that Ravenclaw Housemates weren't ones to care about someone's fame or accomplishments as much as the other House's most likely would and merely looked at the intelligence a person possessed.

Starla got out her sewing kit and took small peek at Fuzzy-Hair's figure one last time before getting to work on a new doll.

**Hermione POV**

Hermione glanced at the Griffindor girls around her, before sighing in resignation, condemning herself to one again being lonely her entire year at Hogwarts. She had never been good at situations with other children her age when it came to social matters and people who were older than her always looked down on her or got angry at how she upstaged them on knowing things.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if being so curious about things was a blessing or a curse. Even when she was a little girl Hermione found the world around her exciting and interesting and quickly moved through the first years of her life learning things in weeks where it would take normal babies months.

Her already inquisitive nature was encouraged by her parents, which had shaped the way she was today.

When she was younger her mother would always smile in pride when Hermione would come home with a perfect grade or add some detail to an explanation.

Hermione cherished the moments when her mother and father would look at her with unfiltered love, making her feel warmth even during the winter. Hermione strived to be the best little girl in her parent's eyes, but it had all come crashing down when she had went to school.

Where her parents would grace her upstanding knowledge on things and quick grasp on new subjects with love and encouragement, the students around her would make fun of her out of anger and envy, mocking her 'know-it-all' self. Every day she would come home crying to her parents from all the bullying and have tales of despair about how all the kids called her beaver or pulled on her hair.

Hermione had slowly gotten worse and worse at making friends and even the small amount she had left her for others when she started to rant about things they didn't understand or constantly berate them for not knowing the correct things. Yet, under all the façade of being a know-it-all and only needing books, Hermione wallowed in her nervousness and constant insecure turmoil.

That was the thing she had done now. She had shoved all of her acquired Hogwarts knowledge into a gigantic pill and had tried to force feed it to the girl around her. Naturally they had pulled away from the source of their discomfort and had started their own separate groups, blatantly ignoring Hermione.

Hermione wondered if she would ever have a friend in this place. The only person here that hadn't shown any irritation at all was Starla Potte- Hermione stopped dead in her thoughts and wrapped her arms quickly around her midriff.

Her eyes widen a little as she has to force down a small groan from the discomfort she was feeling. It felt like some one had punched her in the gut and all the air had fled from her body. She wondered if this was what Ron had felt like when he was in discomfort.

Ron! Did he get her sick!? Was this a magical disease that she hadn't built up the suitable immunity like Ron had!? He seemed to go through discomfort as well, but had gotten over it! There was a chance she hadn't had the chance to grow immune to it, so it was safe to say that Hermione could be in danger of a magical variation of the flu! Would this be the downfall of her, a way similar to the Indians of America when they were introduced to the Spanish?! Hermione was beginning to hyperventilate when the feeling disappeared.

It wasn't a slow ebbing away that would have made Hermione sigh in relief, no it was an instant relief that made Hermione cautious and hesitant to relax her grip from her stomach. After a few moments of thinking it through, Hermione relaxed releasing her grip from her gut which allowed her to breathe in more deeply.

Hermione looked up and all of her accumulated breath left her in a large gasp that went unnoticed by the girls around her. There, on the the other side of the room, Hermione saw Starla Potter looking at her intently, rarely blinking.

This, however odd and unnatural on its own, was not the reason for Hermione's shock and minute fear. In Starla's hand there was a doll, but it was no ordinary doll. It had brown buttons for eyes along with bushy brown looking cloth for hair.

It also wore a Griffindor Hogwarts Robe that looked like a many replicate of her own. Yes, the doll in Starla Potter's hand-held an extremely disconcerting familiarity with Hermione. She stared at the doll for a few more seconds and tried to make sense of what was happening to her.

The doll was creepy, but it seemed to hold a potential for fear that no doll should ever have. Hermione glanced up at Starla's face once more and was caught off guard by the change in emotion from earlier. Hermione had never seen someone as emotionless as Starla and was immediately freaked out by the odd occurrence before her.

Starla Rose Potter's lip was twitching up, into what seemed like a smile, at her.

**Starla's POV**

Starla stared at Hermione gauging her reaction to seeing the masterpiece in Starla's hand. She didn't always show off her work to the person she based it on, but she was making an exception for Fuzzy-Hair.

Fuzzy-Hair had shown some interest in dolls so it would be a crime to not allow Fuzzy-Hair to see a fabulous doll created in her likeness. However, Starla was not met by a gaze of pleasantly surprised thankfulness, but gained a shadow of shock and fear from the girl.

Starla's lip twitched into a frown as she pulled the doll back under the table and looked at it herself, not knowing that Hermione had felt a small lost feeling in her gut when the doll was out of sight. It was truly a magnificent show of her own skill and just looking at it made her swell with pride.

In her opinion the doll looked much better than Fuzzy-Hair would ever look. With its cute buttons for eyes and the stitches holding it together, Starla could only guess that Fuzzy-Hair had been jealous of the eternal creation.

Even Starla, herself was jealous at the creation, feeling the demons of envy tugging at her hair. It was such a cruel world in which Starla lived in, one where she could get so close to making something perfect, but was so far away from being perfect.

Starla looked at her reflection in the tableware that had been given out by magic and gazed sorrowfully at the sight of her eyes. They were a most beautiful emerald-green, but they depressed her all the same.

Those beautiful eyes, human eyes, living eyes, reminded her every single time that she was human and not a doll. Starla's sadness fell to irritation at the world and realized that there was a good way to release the amassed frustration. She returned the Fuzzy-Hair doll into her Practitioner Pouch and reached in to grab the Red-Hair doll.

She stared at the creation looking back at her and her irritation increased tenfold. The memories of him mocking her craft and reminding her of all the kids in her school enraged her. She looked at the creation in her hands and repressed the desire to grab the fork on the table and impale the doll with it.

No, the death would have to wait for later, now she would just run simple things. She grabbed one of her pins in her Pouch and positioned it at the doll's butt. She waited for a second, liking the aesthetic feeling of making suspense and them lightly pricked the Red-Hair doll with it.

Starla smiled as she as the noise of someone yelling out in surprise and pain emerged from the crowd. It was drowned out mostly by the other noises, but she and a few others had heard it. She took out the pin and started to prick the doll in tiny little places, using only enough force to make Red-Hair feel like he was being bit by ants. Starla pokes the doll a few more times before letting out a relaxed breath.

Doing things that harm people had always been a good stress reliever for Starla and it seemed it was even better when it came to that Red-Hair. She placed the doll back to where she found it and started eating, now realizing that she was significantly hungry.

Starla had never needed to eat much and her small stature, even among her first year compatriots, spoke of her lack of appetite. She finished her small meal and didn't have to wait long for the rest of the Ravenclaw Students to also finish. She made a passing glance to Fuzzy-Hair once more before walking out the Grand Hall with her peers.

Later that night...

Starla's lip twitched in the dim light of the candles surrounding her as she finished the preparations of the curse she was going to put Fuzzy-Hair. It wasn't bad or evil, an assumption people often made when you said the word curse.

Curses don't have to have a harmful effect to be known as curses, just like the Wizard dark spell '_Avada Kedavra_' still being known as a spell in most cases.

Nonetheless, Starla laid down the Fuzzy-Hair doll in the middle of the circle she had made and started chanting. She moved her hands fluidly in the air above the doll and began closing her eyes, giving anyone the belief that she was falling asleep.

Starla concentrated on her inner magic and with the help of her chant and the silence of the silence of the room, was able to caress her magic and make it flow in the manner she needed.

Taking the strand of magic, Starla pushed it upon the doll and then reached down with one her hands to grasp the ingredients around her. She picked up a very small amount of the red dust and slowly scattered it around the doll, before picking up even a smaller amount of silver dust and sprinkling it as well.

Starla took a pause to breathe in deeply before chanting slightly louder, the candles around her getting brighter due to the magic that slipped through the cracks of her chant and gained a slight blueish tint. Starla's chant stopped suddenly, the candles going back to their normal existence and dull lighting.

Starla took a deep breath in exhaustion and thought over what she had done. She had decided during the day of introductions to the school that she would put a courage growth curse onto Fuzzy-Hair and a small attraction curse as well. Where as her curse had made her uncle a social outcast, the small curse she put on Fuzzy-Hair would make so people would consider talking to her more than usual.

The courage growth curse would make it so that Fuzzy-Hair would slowly gain confidence in herself and become less likely to use any facade to hide her insecurity. Yet, Starla had forgotten the exhaustion that came with having to use multiple curses on somebody, but other wise it had been a piece of cake to do it. It had even been quite easy to sneak out of the dorm rooms and use the Ravenclaw Common Room after hours for her ritual.

With all the paintings, something else Starla was going to have to look at closely later, asleep and it being the first day of Hogwarts, Starla was able to escape the risk of getting caught by Professors and Prefects scouring the halls and rooms. This method wouldn't work again this year, so Starla would have to find a place to continue her studies. Starla picked up her ingredients and placed them back into her box of supplies, which then went back into her Pouch. She stood up and slowly made her way up to the Girl Dorm where her bed was crying for her.

She answered the sound of longing with a small yawn, the only thing that gave any evidence that she was tired and in much need of sleep. She berated herself a little for not having the required strength to place a curse on the Red-Hair doll either. As she slipped into the comforting embrace of sleep, Starla had one more bitter thought before being taken over by the tendrils of slumber.

'_A doll wouldn't have to sleep.'_

**A/N: Hello! Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoy this chapter! Also, I apologies that I didn't get this out sooner, but I had Show Choir Audition practice and a trip to Six Flags for school that took up my strength to get this out any sooner. **

**I was pooped when I came home yesterday and almost immediately fell asleep. Nonetheless, thank you for gracing this chapter with your gaze.**

**I didn't know if I wanted to include the Sorting Hat's song, but I realized that it would be great inspiration for Starla to use for later use, so yeah. Also, to be on the safe side, I do not own the Sorting Hat song to any extent what so ever.**

**Also, I would love it if some of you were to think up some puns for the chapter names, something that you all hopefully noticed. I am a great lover of puns and I would appreciate any that you could think up some so that I won't have to resort to using boring names for my chapters.**

**I want to end this with a thank you to all the people who have reviewed up to this point like vsama, monaffmona, Leez, riceb0x, RebeliousOne, Elfwyn, yorushihe, sarah-rose76646, and last, but not least, Rain Shigu.**


	5. Thread of Conversation

**Stitches**

Starla sat at her seat in transfiguration and tried to pay attention to the lesson. It was difficult for the girl to keep her full concentration on the lesson since she had spent a lot of her time during the night trying to find a place that she could safely and without risk of getting caught, an activity which really takes a lot out of her sleep time.

There was also the problem of already knowing a lot of the stuff Professor McGonagall was telling the class, having read a head during her free time before school, though she was determined not to fall asleep and miss even a drop of any crucial information that the lecture might provide. Starla let go of a minute sigh that went unnoticed by the students around her. On a happier note, Starla's life in Ravenclaw was going according to Starla's earlier assumptions almost to the dot.

Whereas in another house, such as Griffindor or Slytherin, she would have to deal with interruptions from kids that have grand delusions about her and her 'heroics' or insults towards her family, not that she cared, or her insignificant existence, an insult that would have probably gotten a few of them killed after a while. However, in Ravenclaw, most of the house population was compiled of people who found intelligence more important than some big shot name and ludicrous fame.

However, there were some Ravenclaw Students that might have dreamed up some stupid ideas about getting to know her more thoroughly out of curiosity, but Starla had kept them at bay with her stoic and phlegmatic attitude.

Starla kept reflecting in her mind about her recent activities, mostly about her recent success of cursing someone and how her effort she had placed on cursing Fuzzy-Hair had not gone to waste at all. Fuzzy-Hair wouldn't probably ever notice herself, but she was slowly changing to fit in with her new growing confidence. No one would notice until later in the year, maybe next year or so, but Fuzzy-Hair was slightly changing her stance in walking and talking.

Her previous death grip on her books due to insecurity and a bad past with people ripping them from her grasp was becoming more lax and her bossy tone that grated on people's nerves and was starting to get less annoying and more helpful. Starla was slowly able to look at Fuzzy-Hair without having the urge to destroy the reminder of her past years dealing with her own loneliness before her dolls had rescued her. It was a tough time for Starla when she had no one and meeting Eldra and utilizing her dolls for power were still some of the happiest times in her life.

Really, if she was truthful, Starla had no qualms about killing Fuzzy-Hair but she had a feeling that she needed to do less killing until later in the year. A death in the beginning of school would most likely bring people coming to either get reports or interviews from children who knew Fuzzy-Hair.

Starla had learned that when you killed someone there was usually always local buzz from the media, which she hated. It was the one regret she had when her aunt had died. After her suicide, Starla had been kept at a police station over night for some questioning along with her uncle and Dudley, who was in an almost catatonic state from the death of his mother. Starla's lip twitched slightly at her memory.

However, Starla's happy trip down some of her more approachable memories was cut short by the professor telling everyone to turn their matchstick into a needle. For most kids getting caught unawares by assignments were the worst things that could happen in school, especially right after daydreaming, but Starla was different.

Barring the fact that she already knew a lot of the stuff they were talking about due to early reading, Starla, no matter how deep her thoughts went, was always hearing out for any new buts of information that she would need and didn't have yet.

Her level of dividing her attention was sharpened from her childhood, the skill to focus on her task at hand and watch her surroundings a must in her uncle's home and at her past school. Starla set her gaze on the matchstick in front of her and grasped her wand from its spot beside her.

She turned her appraising stare towards the long wooden rod and felt her lip give a slight twitch. Her wand was the only physical evidence of a rare creature that had only been seen a few times, and was still considered a myth even among Wizards and Witches. They were called Puppets and Starla was amazed at the legends behind them. The creatures weren't very tall, maybe a foot in height, but they were resourceful and had an amazing variety of magical skills.

Some could spit up leeches onto people, which was one of the more unsavory skills they possessed, and others could influence someones actions to the point they would kill a loved or even themselves. Starla could do the same thing, but they were fast and were more mobile with their skills. The little beings were the by-product of a dying person feeling their death was unjust or wrong when in the area surrounding a Puppet.

From some of the more aged legends, you could pick out the name André Toulon to be the person who originally created the Puppets, who, until his death, followed every single on of his orders. After his death, the Puppets recreated the ceremony for their creation and became their own magical being. That being said, the puppets were very reclusive creatures and very vengeful, taking serious offense to most things, even the smallest of mistakes, when it came to humans or other creatures. In her wand, Starla possessed some finely grained wood pieces of a Puppet as her core.

Ollivander, the Wand Maker, had told her a tale of how a friend of his that lived in France had sent over a small quantity of the finely grained Puppet and had mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth. Ollivander himself had visited the estate in which he lived on and found it in ruins, scrath marks everywhere and most of the living room and master bedroom burned. From then on, he had kept secret about his possession of the Puppet's remains and had been looking for someone to take it off his hands.

Unsurprisingly, he had jumped at the chance to give it to Starla when the wand had connected to her magical core. On a less serious note, her wand was also made of a Yew Tree, a bit of information she had almost missed in her daze after learning of the most magical beings she had ever heard about. They would never surpass her dolls, but they had their own personal greatness.

Starla firmly grasped the wand and made the necessary movements for the simple transfiguration spell and with a expressionless tone stated the incantation they were presented with during their Professor's lecture and explanation. Her eyes gained a small sparkle of satisfaction at the job well done and calmly put her wand down, patiently waiting for her other less qualified students to attempt to perform the spell also.

Speaking of her students, Starla's vision swerved across the class and rested on the close-knit duo of Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, who had both sit close together. The Slytherin and Ravenclaw didn't share many classes, Transfiguration being one of them, but the duo had been some of the first people who had really interested her. She could still remember with vengeance how their first meeting went.

_Flashback_

_Starla looked up from the book lying on the table in front of her and gave no sign of being surprised, which she wasn't, by the two intruders. _

_One was a blonde girl with light skin and cold blue-gray eyes that looked like hell had frozen over. Beside her sat a less intimidating and nervous girl that had brown short hair with fear tinged light green eyes, many tones below Starla's own unnerving sick green color. _

_The nervous girl seemed to want to be anywhere, but near her at the moment, while the blonde girl was looking intently at her. Her curiosity perked, Starla marked the page she was on and closed the book, gracing the two with her full attention. _

_Starla opened her mouth and began, "Hello, is there something you need?" _

_The blonde showed no reaction towards the empty tone in which the question was spoken, but her nervous friend became even more uncomfortable. The blonde girl spoke, "My name is Daphne Greengrass and this is my friend Tracey Davis." The girl, now known as Tracey, seemed to writhe in despair at her name being brought up in a conversation. _

_Really her reactions were slightly amusing and Starla would have felt a bit of satisfaction of making someone so uncomfortable if not for the girl was also getting on her nerves. However, noticing the long pause after Daphne's first words, Starla attempted to get the conversation moving along by saying, "Yes, that is very nice. Now what do you want?" _

_Daphne looked slightly offended at the flippant response she had garnered form the young practitioner and replied with even more iciness in her voice, "I wanted to formerly introduce myself as the Heiress of the Greengrass family in hopes that I could propose a treaty between our two houses as you are the Heiress of the Potter family." Starla looked at her and Daphne was struck with the sudden feeling of being vulnerable and naked. _

_Starla said in her phlegmatic tone, "I don't really care about politics, I have all I need, and you don't seem to really care as much as you put on. Who is forcing you, your parents?" Daphne flinched like she was hit and almost all of her cold façade was destroyed. Tracey looked at what happened and immediately went to comfort her._

_Tracey looked at Starla with a surprising amount of anger for a girl who had just recently had trouble looking at Starla in the eye for mor than a few seconds without flinching. She vehemently whispered, "Shut your mouth! You know nothing about her and don't act like you do!" Starla couldn't help, but find a bit of falseness in that statement since if she had been wrong, Daphne wouldn't have reacted the way she had. From the state Daphne was in currently from what she said, it was obvious she had hit the mark on some sort of mental or physical abuse Daphne had been put through at some point in her life._

_Without answering Starla reopened her book and silently began to read again, further enraging Tracey. From Starla's peripheral vision, she could see Tracey reigning in her anger and silently leading a distraught Daphne out of the Library. Starla couldn't help, but raise her head and give their exit her full attention, many different thoughts going through her head._

_Flashback End_

From then on, Starla had kept some tabs on the two girls. The reactions they had to Starla's statements piqued her interest, so unfortunately for the two girls, they were now showing up on Starla's radar.

It was interesting to Starla about how their facades and personalities could drop and change at the flip of a coin. Daphne was obviously a strong girl, but her weak point was definitely her home life, while Tracey changed from the nervous girl she had come off as to a viper from hell when she felt that her friend was in trouble.

The two objects of her twisted fascination started to silently writhe while doing their work, sensing that they were being watched, but not knowing what was penetrating them with their gaze. Tracey was the first to lift her head and catch Starla's stare with an automatic glare of her own, obviously still sore from there first impression in the Library.

Starla's lip twitched in amusement at the residual anger the girl possessed towards her. Daphne saw her friend looking at something from the corner of her eye and also looked up. Daphne flinched as she met the emotionless wall otherwise known as Starla's fixed look, before comfortably settling back into her ice queen persona, her lips thinned and her eyes shooting icy daggers in a futile attempt in crushing Starla's expressionless and uncaring face. Mentally, both of the girls instinctively shuddered at the strange glint in the blank girl that made them want to curl up into a ball and give up.

Starla's eyebrow raised in silent challenge at the two, before turning her neck back to the front. Starla's mouth opened up in the slightest in what hinted at a silent yawn and closed again. As mentioned earlier, Over the past few nights, Starla had used some of her sneaking skills to go down the hallways in search for an out-of-the-way classroom that isn't checked up on for her Voodoo Practices. Her time for sleep had taken a nose dive prompting her to take many other methods of getting the required rest.

Dolls never had to fall asleep, but that was just another reason to be envious of them. Sleeping was one of the things that she disliked the most. Not only was it something she couldn't get rid of easily, it also reminded her of her humanity. The same goes with eating and having to go through the bathroom. it all made her feel sadness that she loathed and fueled her jealousy of her inanimate creations. Feeling slightly tired, Starla laid her head down onto the desk and closed her eyes, hoping to get a few minutes of relaxation to ease her body's need of rest.

Not a second later, Starla's attempt at getting some rest was interrupted by the teacher telling it was time to go to their next class. Getting out of her seat with no visible frustration, Starla cursed the teacher and the timing of the world. However, it seemed as if the world hated her today, which was seen as Starla's books were accidentally pushed to the ground by her own lazy arm that hadn't completely left the table yet.

Walking outside of the class, Starla looked at her timetable and felt her lip twitching into a grimace. It was her first session in potions and even now Starla was getting a bad feeling down her back, something that had never failed her as of yet.

As Starla followed the rest of the Ravenclaws to Potion class, Starla was pulled into one of the closet rooms without anyone noticing. With her blood boiling, Starla felt her eyes quickly adjust to the different lighting of the room and came face to face with a wand held by none other than Tracey Davis. While trying to get her books together, it would seem that Tracey had walked ahead of the Ravenclaws and laid a mediocre ambush.

Not giving off any reaction to the magical focus in her face, Starla stared straight ahead as Tracey whispered in rage, "You-! You-! You Brat! Stay away from me and Daphne you little twit! I don't want to see hide nor tail of you! You get it?! You get me, you pug-faced fool!? I will show no hesitation in hexing your sorry butt!"

Tracey seemed to be at unease and, quite frankly, put off at the lack of response of Starla's face, but took it in stride and pushed Starla out of the closet, where she fell to the ground, before running off towards her next class, leaving Starla behind on the ground on her back, staring up at the high ceiling with a look of silent contemplation, lips twitching down. Starla lay there for a few seconds longer before getting up. Her recent fascination with Tracey had just taken a very bad turn, yes a very bad turn.

Starla calmly put her hand into her pouch and took out something that she had acquired during one of her recent travels around the school where she had hid in the library during one of Tracey's research trips alongside Daphne. When she was fascinated with someone, they were the top of her list for her making a doll. Pulling out the doll that had Tracey's features with light green buttons to match. Feeling terrible rage in her system and no time to spare or suitable location to bring out one of her more nasty curses, Starla just turned and watched Tracey run down the long hallway, before slamming the doll as hard as she could into the wall.

Tracey's form stopped in shock at the sudden pain, but the body's active momentum pulled it along and made the girl fall head first onto the ground, knocking her out cold. Feeling her rage deplete, but not vanish completely, Starla took out her favorite stress release, the doll of Red-Hair, and also slammed against the wall as hard as she could. Starla could feel a spark of sadistic glee sprout where people said their hearts were and let the emotion flow through her body alongside the blood riding through her veins. Starla was still planning on ruining Red-Hair's life for insinuating that dolls were for little girls and were childish. Finally feeling satisfied, Starla ran towards the Potions class, hoping she wouldn't be late.

…

Finally reaching the stuffy classroom, Starla fell into the room silently panting, not looking at all tired to any random spectators to her sudden entrance. Looking around, Starla found one chair not being used and sat in it, becoming the forced partner to an unnamed Ravenclaw. Mentally patting herself on the back, Starla waited in comfort as the teacher finally arrived. His black and somewhat greasy looking hair along with the sharp and contentious face did not make for an impressive feature, but his grand entrance even had Starla's interest captured.

Looking around, the man stared at everyone's face, pausing for only a brief second more on Starla, his eyes filled with suppressed disdain, something that only Starla caught, and began what seemed like a very motivating speech, "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Unless you are to be of a dunderhead to understand." He said the last part looking almost blatantly at Starla. Starla's eyes narrowed minutely as her assumption of the speech was unfounded, she tried to remain unbiased of the teacher for now, but did nothing to reign in the feeling of being annoyed at her implied stupidity

The Potions teacher turned his head towards Starla and said, "Starla Potter, our new celebrity? Tell me, Ms. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Starla looked up at the man who had not only spoken her name in concealed hatred, but also just asked a question about potions to someone who wouldn't know such a thing. The key word their being wouldn't. "You would get the drought of living death, Sir." The words alone were respectful and correct, but no respect could be heard in her voice whatsoever, though on a small scale the opposite could be heard.

The potions teacher frowned ever so slightly and asked, "Where would I find a bezoar, Ms. Potter?" Starla mentally frowned at the man, and said in her phlegmatic voice, "You would be able to find one in a goat's stomach, Sir."

Snape's frown got more profound as each question he tossed her way was taken down by a surprisingly correct rebuttal.

"Hm, Ms. Potter, please tell me what is the difference between aconite and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, Sir."

Snape's frown, more like a grimace really at this point, was visible to most people in the classroom, and coming from a usually guarded person when it came to emotions you could tell that Starla's correct answers were getting to him. He turned his head back to the board and started telling the class what to do. Mentally he let loose the cringe that had attempted to overtake his mind when her blank gaze had focused on him, meeting his eyes full force with no evident fear. He was so unnerved but he eyes, he wasn't able to make a connection strong enough to read her thoughts. Actually during one fo their brief staring showdowns, Snape had felt as the victim for a short period of time.

Away from his line of sight, Starla relinquished the same strong hold she had on her lip and let it twitch a tiny bit. Most of those questions weren't easily answered for someone just recently inducted into the magical community, which he knew she was, but for someone like her, a Voodoo Practitioner, who also worked in powders, the cousin to Potion Making, it was easy for her to know many of the things she wasn't supposed to. She mentally filed that the man was someone she would eventually have revenge on. He irritated her and reminded her of her unfair caretakers and uncaring, sometimes mean, teachers who all met a terrible end. However, the revenge would have to wait as during one of the battle of gazes, Starla had taken a peak at his soul with her Voodoo Magic, and was met with powerful barriers, evidence of strong Occlumency Shields.

There was no more conflict during the class and Starla had listened with the attention of a predator chasing its prey. After class was finished, Starla hurried out and headed towards the Library, fore Potions was her last class of the day. Along the way, Starla could hear the little mutters about her falling from the lips of first years and upper years alike.

To many, mostly the other houses, Starla was still avidly and reverently known as the Girl-Who-Lived, or in Slytherin among Death Eater children, the Girl-Who-Shouldn't-Have-Lived, but to the Ravenclaws, she had garnered some more appalling names for herself.

Ravenclaws were in no way unobservant, and they had quickly realized her love for dolls and sewing the old fashioned way without magic, but they hadn't realized how fanatic her love was yet and how deep her envy of the objects ran. However, seeing her infatuation with the art, many people in Ravenclaw had started mentioning her as the "Patch Princess" or simply "Doll". It had started out slowly, but now the only time she heard her own name from Ravenclaw lips was when the rarely talked to her in a straight forward conversation.

However, among these admittedly clever names, Starla's heart went out to one in particular, the one known as "Miss Weaver". From the first time she had heard it, Starla had loved how it rolled of the lips like honey. Starla's lips twitched up just at the thought of how great the name was. It captured her love of sewing in a clever usage of words, while also giving it a sense of maturity.

It was certainly much better than her own name.

**A/N: Hey Everybody! Sorry I haven't updated in a while on any of my stories. I was hoping that since it was the second to last week of school I would have less homework or work in general. However, the universe loves screwing with me and decided to give me teachers who found preparing us for next year by continuing to give us new formulas and techniques.**

******They are useful and the teachers make it pretty fun, but it still makes my head hurt and makes me emotionally and physically drained. Also! I have been preoccupied with an assignment by my English teacher in which I had to write my own own short story with a ten page maximum.**

**Also, there was a small crossover with The Puppet Master Franchise and the manga Hollow Fields. I own neither of these things and neither of them will be major parts of this Fanfiction. On another topic, I would like to give a hand to yorushihe, RebeliousOne, and guest reviewer 'fan' for giving sewing puns for me to use. **

**For this Chapter, yorushihe's suggestion was used, so a quick hand for yorushihe! Feel free to supply any quality Doll or Sewing puns you can think of.**

**Its my take on the aftermath of WWIII, but I won't go into detail about it. So yeah, I hope to start getting things out faster, and with Summer on the way that doesn't seem like so much of a pipe dream. **

**Thank you for you patience and continued support of this story and please leave any questions, concerns, or just plain complements in the review section. I will try to respond to all people who taker the time to do it. My next story that I will update is the long awaited Naruko, Elemental Nation's Traveling Mage.**

**Now to end this chapter, I will be presenting my first ever Omake on this site that is inspired by the constant belief that Starla is influenced by my Sasori, one of my favorite characters on Naruto Shippuden.**

On one of the rare days that she was home alone, Starla was able to watch whatever she wanted to on the T.V., not having to deal with the ever loud Dudley, and, deciding to take a break from learning her craft, went downstairs to make full use of the device that she was rarely able to freely handle.

Turning it on, she passed by many different shows and episodes that she found uninteresting or plain stupid. Frustration began to build along with the soreness in her hand at having to continuously press the up and down button on the remote. She was about to just turn the infernal machine off in anger before landing on a show called _Naruto Shippuden_.

Finding her curiosity get the better of her, Starla watched some of it. Apparently it was some sort of ninja theme anime where these shinobi used this energy called Chakra to perform special attacks. It was a pretty cool concept and idea, especially the funny reactions they had to certain things.

In this current episode there was a pink haired girl who had monster strenght and this an old woman who seemed past her prime fighting- fighti-fig- Starla's mind went completely blank, almost as blank as her future face, as she saw what was in front of her on the television.

A man with red hair and emotionless face and voice that used puppets as a weapon of destruction.

Starla felt some drool roll of her lips and fall to the ground at how amazing the man was. Her heart almost stopped pumping blood into her body when he took major damage from an attack, but it quikcly began beating again rapidly when he revealed his true puppet body.

Starla rushed towards the screen like a dog running after a bone on a commercial getting as close as humanly possible to it and started clawing pitifully at the picture of the perfect man, her sweet Sasori. Her cheeks felt warm and her heart was trying to jump out of her throat.

Was this what love felt like?

**The end. I hoped you liked my first one and feel free to give any suggestions for new Omakes that you would like to see.**

***Edit*-5/25/14- Made a few corrections and tried to spice up some of the paragraphs.**


	6. Barbie-Q

**Stitches**

Walking down the empty hallway, Starla silently strode in a lost manner, not really having a place to go. It was the middle of night, and past the curfew, but Starla had quickly grown skilled in evading the security that goes bumping in the night. The prefects had slowly grown lazy in parts of their nightly watch and Filch had stopped being a big problem when she had killed his precious cat, Mrs. Norris. Starla's eyes became slightly glazed in remembrance of how she had gotten rid of that infernal cat.

_Flashback_

_It was in the middle of the night a few weeks ago that Starla had looked around the corner of the next hallway and cursed silently when she saw Mrs. Norris walking down the path Starla had planned to follow. Starla started to backtrack from whence she came, before realizing that the cat was alone, Filch no where in sight. _

_Taking the advantage Starla went back to where Mrs. Norris was languidly sauntering down the hall like she owned the place, and got out a pinch of her sleeping powder from her Practitioner Pouch. Slowly sneaking over to the cat, Starla applauded herself for her rapidly learned skill of silently walking. _

_However, as the world seemed out to get Starla, the second her mental pat began Starla accidentally made a loud creaking noise from a slightly loose board in the hallway. The noise echoed through the long hallway, almost as if the noise itself was alive and trying desperately to get Mrs. Norris's attention. _

_Of course, Norris had completely stopped her cat walk down her desired path and turned her head in Starla's direction. Before Norris could send off the single 'mew' that always seemed to attract Filch even he was no where to be found, Starla shot off as fast she could while being filled to the brim with adrenaline and quickly threw her sleeping powder into the nostrils of Mrs. Norris. _

_The cat didn't even hesitate before falling into a deep sleep for the next 5 to 6 hours, plenty of time for Starla to begin the procedure. Striding through the still empty hallways, an unconscious Mrs. Norris strung over her shoulder, it didn't take long for Starla to find an unused room that was layered with dust. Unceremoniously dumping the cat on the floor, not waking it up in the slightest, Starla got out her needles and all the cloth and stuffing she would need. _

_Reaching out, Starla tried to grab hold of the cat's soul, but was shocked when she suddenly became halted by a rather large barrier surrounding the soul of the cat. Starla's eyes lit up in recognition at the reasons why she had been stopped by the spherical spirit barrier. _

_There was only two known ways that you could stop a Voodoo or anyone from reaching your soul in its purest form, there was the Art of Occlumency, something that she needed to start her lessons on, and a Familiar's Bond between two people. _

_Starla disregarded the cat having Occlumency, because no matter how smart Mrs. Norris seemed to be there was no way the cat was that intelligent and magically gifted. However, the Familiar's Bond explained the mystical connection Filch had with Mrs. Norris, something many of the students had questioned. Starla's lip twitched upward at the challenge and reached into her Practitioner Pouch once more, this time bringing out her Familiar Object in all its doll-like glory. She stared and admired the total black body and single bright green lightning bolt mark that had resembled her own before it's untimely disappearance. _

_The green bolt seemed to glow in ethereal power, giving the doll a very creepy appearance under the low green lighting. She felt the connection to her Familiar Object and silently gasped at the sudden surge of energy that always came when she was close enough to the object, it was euphoric. Her Practitioners Pouch kept the doll far enough away while it was not being used to give Starla a chance to become more experienced in using her Voodoo Dolls without the help from her Familiar Object. _

_There were some Voodoo Practitioners who depended on their Object like air, but they were among the lower hierarchy of Practitioners and were treated with disrespect in most establishments for not being able to wave off the addiction that came with having the Familiar Object constantly present. As she closed her eyes in concentration, she grasped the extra power that came with the Object and her own inherent magic before filing it down into the likeness of a small drill. _

_Pushing it upon the the defenses of the cat's soul, Starla adeptly began to smoothly crave out tiny bits and pieces of the obstacle, making the cat writhe in its deep sleep and certainly sending off phantom pains through the Familiar's Bond to Filch. _

_It took a while, but Starla was able to finally make it to the now vulnerable soul and began picking it apart, her annoyance of having to take down the barrier causing her to purposefully sew a much larger sized portion of the soul into the cat doll that she was only now beginning to sew. _

_It only took a few moments to sew the cat's soul between the added power of her Familiar Object and her experience in animals souls. Finally done, Starla gathered her things before placing them back into her Pouch, accidentally forgetting to put back her Norris Doll that she still kept in her hand, before exiting the room, leaving Mrs. Norris, and dazedly walking back to the general direction of the Ravenclaw Common Room._

_Making it back, Starla was only able to find her way to the Girl's Room by using the light of the dying fire. Feeling the relaxing heat of the fire, Starla sleepily went over to it and closed her eyes in relaxation. Her unconscious grip on the Mrs. Norris Doll slowly loosened until it was barely hanging on. A sharp crack from the fire woke Starla from her daze, giving her a slight window of clear concentration, but also making her jump slightly. _

_The Mrs. Norris Doll fell from Starla's grip, and gave the fire an unexpected bout of fuel, letting it go on farther than it's earlier collection of wood had foretold. Starla, unknowing of the events that had just happened, quickly went up to the Girl's Room where she fell asleep without changing into her sleep clothes. _

_Flashback_

It was only until the next morning what had occurred when a distraught Filch had notified Dumbledore loudly in front of the whole Grand Hall that he had found a smoldering pile of Mrs. Norris and Starla had subsequently looked for her Norris Doll.

Not being able to find it, while also able to remember a few bleary details of the last few moments of the night before, Starla was able to put two and two together to understand what had accidentally happened.

Everyone had their own opinions about what had happened, but the 'official' story was some upper year student had sneaked out during the night and had spelled the cat to burn. Filch was uncharacteristically, but acceptable in his position, depressed and didn't even seem to get much joy out of busting kids during the night anymore. If it had been just act that he owned, it would have been different, but on that day Filch had lost a part of his soul due to his rather strong connection to Mrs. Norris though the Familiar Bond. Had Filch possessed any magical power and not been born a squib, Starla was sure that she would have had a much harder time dealing with the barrier.

The whole situation was kind of annoying to Starla, not because she didn't want the cat to die, no that was okay, it was irritating because the Prefects who were slowly becoming lax straightened themselves out and became more observant. It took a week or two before the whole thing quieted down and the prefects started shirking some of their work again. Starla had instantly honed in on the casual security and took advantage of it, using it to once again walk around the halls during the night freely.

Currently, Starla was looking for a room that would a good place to start her base of operations. Her Practitioner Pouch could only hold so much and it was starting to become overloaded. Contrary to belief, Practitioner Pouches didn't have an unlimited amount of space to keep stuff. it was really just an object for Voodoo Practitioners to use for long trips to different places. That was why she needed to find a spot where she could have easy access to. Tonight, Starla had decided to go through some of the more creepier and unused spots of Hogwarts, whereas her first trips were more focused on places close to the Common Room.

Silently walking down the path, Starla's attention was caught by a door that was positioned to her left. I looked like any other door in the hallway, covered in dust and unwelcoming to boot, but it seemed to draw her in, as if it was nudging her towards it. Giving into the subtle demand, Starla walked up to the door, opening it slowly, and was greeted with a dusty room that looked no different.

Looking around the room, preparing to leave, Starla's eyes were snagged by a painting in the corner of the room.

She walked over to it and stared at it curiously. Most paintings would get moved to more used spots, usually because getting looked at its all they can look forward to these days, so it is unusual for a painting to be in such a dusty old place. Starla let out a breath of air and took out a piece of cloth from her Practitioners Pouch and started wiping the dust off the painting.

She could hear muffled decidedly female coughs that grew louder and louder as she continued to wipe the painting clean. Finishing up, Starla placed the cloth back into her Pouch, mentally noting to clean it later, before turning her gaze back up to the now reveled picture.

Starla's eyes grew minutely bigger in shock and a small gasp could be heard. The now identified painting coughed a few more times, before successfully clearing its throat and looking down on Starla with a small warm smile. Starla stared in mute shock at the woman in front of her.

Her book held many non-moving pictures of this woman and to find her here of all places was extraordinary, if not a bit strange. The woman in front of her was an important icon in Voodoo Practitioner history, one that was the equivalent to the Wizard's and Witch's Merlin or Circe.

The woman in front of her was none other than Marie Laveau, otherwise known as the Voodoo Queen.

The woman, well painting of a women, asked "Well, hello little one? What brings a Practitioner to dusty 'ole Hogwarts?" The bright voice it used seemed unbecoming of a well-renowned figure among the Practitioners.

Starla masked her awe of the figurehead and asked in an emotionless tone, "How did you know I practiced Voodoo?"

The painting seemed to smile in amusement before answering, "Deary, I can see the Practitioner Pouch, you may be able to get that by the Wizards in this school, but not by me."

Starla's emotionless front stood strong, but on the inside she was hitting and cursing herself for being so stupid as to think that the great Voodoo Queen wouldn't be able to pick out who were Practitioners.

Starla asked, "Why are you here in Hogwarts, Ms. Laveau? I thought Hogwarts didn't have knowledge of Voodoo Magic."

Marie nodded at the admittedly good question and answered, "I've been here for a long time, longer than Dumbledore was alive. Actually, come to think of it, I don't know how long I've been here, all I know is that I was put here, before being slowly forgotten, gathering dust and the like. Anyways... what is a Practitioner doing here in Hogwarts, have the communities joined together?"

Starla shook her head and answered, "No, I was given the means to learn Voodoo when I was younger, but I seem to have an important place in the British Magical Community, and so, I thought it would be a good idea to adapt what I learn here into more advanced Voodoo practices."

Marie nodded, liking the thought, and queried, "So, whats got you traveling down here? Doesn't seem like a place a," Marie took a closer look at Starla and continued, "First year would go wandering around in the night."

Starla looked down in slight disappointment before phlegmatically replying, "I need a place to keep my Doll materials and ingredients safe and secret, while also somewhere that I can perform my more extensive curses."

Marie's painted face brightened up considerably and excitedly said, "Ohhh, you study the Art of Voodoo Dolls. Ahh that brings back memories. I had a friend once that studied that too. You wouldn't believe the mischief she caused. There was this one time that she got so mad at her boyfriend who cheated on her that she took the doll she made of him and ripped it in two, very quickly. The woman he was playing around with found herself making out to a man slowly dying, his body ripped in half at the waist." Marie's painting wiped a tear from her eyes as she discussed her friend's 'Mischief". However, Starla comment must have eventually been acknowledged by the Voodoo Queen, because she gained a look of recognition. She looked around the empty room, for some reason checking on eavesdroppers, and then bent down lower in what seemed to be her equivalent of whispering in Starla's ear. She quietly said, "I know a place for you to practice."

The Voodoo Queen's painting began to swing open, revealing a nice quaint room in its depths. Starla sat in amazement, slowly backing up, at the sight before her. She walked inside where she found an empty portrait, or at least it was before Marie walked into the picture, sitting down and taking her earlier casual posture.

Starla's jaw dropped at all the private space she had just acquired, but felt slightly suspicious of the Queen's motives. Turning her head, Starla drilled the Queen with a stare that unnerved most people.

Marie shook a tiny bit in suppressed laughter before stating, "Ah, my friend used to have that same stare. No dear, there isn't any thing you have to sign or do to use this, I just like to have the company, and you remind me of my friend. Besides, we Practitioners have to stick together. I might even help you out a bit! Won't that be great!"

Starla could only nod her head, feeling her body swept up in a numb feeling that must have come from the rush of events. In just one small conversation she had found a place to practice her Voodoo, become acquainted with the moving portrait of the Voodoo Queen, and acquire the assistance of said Voodoo Queen. If she were like any other girl she would have probably fainted or screamed praises to the sky.

Yet, Starla stuck with sitting down in one of the chairs the room had and really looked at the contents of the room. It wasn't huge, but it was definitely bigger than her old cupboard at the Dursleys. It had a large desk in one of the corners that had two shelves above it, most likely for keepsakes or important objects.

Starla walked over to wooden drawer in the corner reflective of the table and gazed at the much larger quantity of low shelves that seemed to be great to hold different amounts of ingredients.

It was only then did she realize how much open ground there was in the middle, it took up most of the space in the room, but it was big enough to hold all of her curses, even the super complex ones.

Starla looked slowly over to where Marie sat and asked, "What is this?" Her wide eyes and thinned lips betraying her stupefied shock.

Marie giggled a little bit into her hand and said, "Deary, Deary, This place has been here a long time, I guess whoever had it built wanted someone to hide it for them. As you can see, that person was me!"

"I can use this anytime I want?"

"Yes, deary, anytime you want, just be careful to not get the attention of all those wavy wand Wizards." Marie smiled at her little jab at the Magical Focus for Wizards.

Starla's eyes seemed watery for just a split second, before the emotion in her eyes disappeared. However, Marie hadn't missed the small non-twitchy smile that had for just a second overtaken Starla's face.

* * *

Starla wanted to somehow make a clone of herself to punch it for being curious. It got her into these type of situations all the time. When she overheard Blondie ranting about his plan to get Red-Hair in trouble for being out at night, Starla felt the urge to be there when it happened. She couldn't keep a good grip on her sadistic urge to watch the little red rodent's face contort into shock and fear as a prefect or Filch caught him.

Now that she had a place to use, Starla had already decided to finally get to cursing the boy, but the new information of him already potentially being in trouble fascinated her. So here she was, the middle of the night and walking through the creepy hallway. Though, the hallway's unnerving atmosphere didn't have much effect on her, but she was sure it would have persuaded the weak at heart to return to their comfy beds. If this was intentional or on accident she couldn't tel, but nonetheless it was effective, scarily so.

She mentally made sure she was going to the floor that Blondie had casually told his flock. Starla was disgusted at the almost reverent way that one girl looked at him. Although, it wasn't a look that she had seen pass through couples on the street, no it looked like a look Dudley had once given the thanksgiving turkey. She shook off the disturbing thoughts and continued down the hallway, listening out for the tell-tale signs of a Prefect coming her way.

As Starla began tuning to walk down the next hallway, she saw three figures coming her way. Starla pushed herself up against the wall and instinctively made herself look smaller and less noticeable. When the figures passed by, Starla noted that Red-Hair had brought some friends along with him. From the whispers and visible socializing down in the Grand Hall, Starla had never guessed that Red-Hair had ever associated with Fuzzy-Hair and Nervous-Boy.

To Starla, Nervous-Boy was an insignificant waste of space, although, most people she met were wastes of space in Starla's opinion. It was just that Nervous-Boy took it the extremes and went from being somebody she ignored on all levels to being annoying and a constant eyesore. His timid nature was disgusting, along with his unfathomable clumsiness that seemed to follow him wherever he went. The only reason she didn't kill him was because she wanted to wait for the right moment.

She didn't even want to go into the subject of his questionable intelligence, it might make her just want to off him, the consequences be forsaken. She was ejected from her thoughts when she realized that the trio were walking out of sight. She quietly ran along the hallway, quickly catching up to them, when she started hearing there whispers that revealed a heated conversation going on.

"-on I'm telling you! This is not a good idea! What if we get caught?" That was definitely Hermione, her voice holding a stern tone.

"Hey! I didn't ask you to come! Neville here is my second in Draco's duel and I intend to win! So if you're so concerned leave." Yes, Red-Hair was still living up to the idiotic and belligerent impression he had first presented to Starla.

On another note, apparently the Nervous-Boy's name was Neville and Blondie's was Draco. Something she should probably remem-What were their names? Starla cursed her subconscious for forgetting the names once more. It was irritating how her mind wiped itself clean constantly of the names belonging to people she honestly felt were below her or didn't interest her.

"R-Really I-Its no big deal. I-I am g-glad to b-be of help." So Nervous-Boy doesn't plan on being quiet through all of this? Interesting. Or annoying.

Starla followed the group closely as they got progressively louder and louder as the argument slowly grew more rambunctious. Starla almost rolled her eyes when she saw the trio start taking wrong turns in their verbal fight, slowly making their way to the third floor, a floor Starla specifically remember the Headmaster telling everyone to stay away from.

It was only when Starla heard a conversation coming from the end of another hallway did she tense. The trio obviously heard it too, for they began stupidly and recklessly running as quickly as they could towards the opposite direction. Not wanting to miss out on this, Starla expertly followed them in a more secretive manner.

The two Prefects that had noticed the running trio quickly made chase getting out their wands if there happened to be a scene. Starla quickly came to a decision and revealed herself to the running trio, seeming to be effortlessly keeping up with them. They all seemed to give off a form of shock, varying from Fuzzy-Hair's shaky gasp to Nervous-Boy's little squeak followed by a small jump in the air.

Fuzzy-Hair got over her surprise quickly due to the dire end the chase was destined to inevitably end in and quickly started looking around for an exit. Seeing a door that seemed relatively unmarked, Fuzzy-Hair grabbed Starla and Red-Hair by their robes and running to the door, Nervous-Boy following them. Casting a quick unlocking spell, the quartet now ran inside the plain looking door, quickly shutting it afterwords.

Letting the Prefects run off in the dark, the four children started panting for air, even Starla had to take a few breaths. She might have looked like she was unaffected by the running, but her stamina wasn't exactly huge, her blank face was just a good way to stop people from knowing that.

Red-Hair seemed to get over his lack of air the most rapidly of the trio and immediately asked with a tiny bit of venom, "What are you doing her?! You just appear out of nowhere like some bloody ghost and almost got us caught!"

Starla's anger behind her unfaltering expression grew to the point she could feel her eyes glinting in rage.

She masked her anger professionally before answering in her patented emotionless tone, "First of all, your rather loud argument was the thing that alerted the Prefects, not me, and second of all, I wanted to come here and watch you all get in trouble by falling into Blondie's plan. I was very eager to see you get in trouble." She pointedly said the last part to Red-Hair before turning to Nervous-Boy and adding, "You were just an added bonus."

Nervous-Boy seemed to flinch like he had been physically punched by the comment. Red-Hair, himself seemed to just be tongue-tied at her flippant and uncaring way of saying that she was enjoying his future demise and the fact that he had been successfully tricked by the annoying git that had been a pain in his behind since the beginning of the year. Fuzzy-Hair was just standing their, most likely trying to make sense of what she should say to diffuse the situation.

Red-Hair quickly got his tied tongue in check before shouting rather loudly, "What did I ever do to you!? Also, what does Neville have to do with this?!"

Starla mentally filed the name Nevil-Nev- Darn, not again! She then realized the full meaning of what he had said and looked at him with an expression of clearly defined disdain before stating lowly, "You insulted my dolls."

The grudge would have seemed childish coming from any other, but the vehemence and promise that Starla's voice held kept anyone there from saying it out loud. Fuzzy-Hair opened her mouth, most likely either in awkward defense of her recent friends or an attempt to defuse the tension in the air, but was stopped by a rather ominous growling sound.

Starla slowly turned around, only to be met with a large three-headed figure that just screamed 'RUN FOR YOUR LIVES'. Starla looked at the frozen figures of Fuzzy-Hair, Red-Hair, and Nervous-Boy, before taking a deep breath and calmly walked out of the room, looking like she wasn't just in the presence of something that could eat your whole family tree in one bite.

No, she did it like she was walking out class after the last bell. The loud noise of the door closing after Starla seemed to be the motivation for the trio to get busy running out of the door. The three-headed dog seemed to notice that his potential meal was escaping and dash forward, its three head fighting for the right to eat them.

Starla didn't even look back as she left towards her room, all thoughts of seeing Red-Hair in trouble tonight gone, swept away from her mind completely. No a new thought had taken root in her mind, tightening her curiosity into some mental form of a choke hold. Why was there a three-headed dog in the castle?

**A/N: Hello! Thank you for reading my story and sticking with it! Personally, I had a good time thinking up Marie and her personality. She's so casually sadistic, but with a warm complexion that you don't notice it very often. I thought I needed an original idea that wasn't the Room of Requirement, while also thinking a character that had the same mind set as Starla, but more livelier way of doing things. **

**Marie is actually a well known Voodoo icon, but in this story she was born much earlier than in real life. Originally was going to keep her during the real time she was around, but she lived in New Orleans, so I could exactly make her really old and forgotten, while also keeping it so that she lived in New Orleans. **

**Haha, well I would like to give a big thank you to all the people who took the time to review on my story and ask questions. **

**Also a quick hand to RebeliousOne for the name of this Chapter. If anyone would like to give some quality Doll or Sewing puns feel free to supply.**

**Thank you for your time. Bye for now!**


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